


i'm somewhere outside my life

by ginger__snapped



Series: how natasha romanoff became a vodka aunt [2]
Category: Marvel Cinematic Universe
Genre: 6k words of self induldgent fic, Emotional Hurt, F/F, Like, The Red Room, but please read it, fighting and death sorry, i really put her through this, i took a lot of creative liberty here folks, i worked for a long time on it, no beta we die like men, please bear with me this is important in my series, rated teen because i swear and theres some fighting and maybe some death too sorry, the author has no idea what theyre doing, the girls are fightiiiing, this got so fucking out of hand im so sorry, this is really fucking self indulgent
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-09-02
Updated: 2020-09-02
Packaged: 2021-03-06 23:33:24
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 5,805
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/26247211
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ginger__snapped/pseuds/ginger__snapped
Summary: “Do you think our parents loved us?”“Of course not. If they did, we wouldn’t be here, would we?”“But-”“Whatever Madame says about our parents is a lie. Look around us, Natalia. This isn’t somewhere kids with loving parents get sent to.”
Relationships: James "Bucky" Barnes & Natasha Romanov, Natasha Romanov & Original Female Character(s), Natasha Romanov/Orginal Female Character
Series: how natasha romanoff became a vodka aunt [2]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1756036
Kudos: 15





	i'm somewhere outside my life

**Author's Note:**

> OKAY so here's the thing. this is a crucial part of this series thats kinda half baked in my head but anyway please dont leave me i know its totally wild and completely catering towards my tastes but i fucking wrote it so here we are bitches!!!! in case u didnt know its just my take on the red room please dont sue me i know its not like the comics probably this is all my own creative liberty with this one anyway please enjoy ily  
> title from sedated by hozier bc i rly fucking love him

Emilia was a vicious opponent. A vicious opponent and a vicious person. There was a time, a time when little girls were still more little girls than soldiers, when Emilia would look out for Natasha. 

Now she only looked out for her punches. 

Natasha was ten. At least, that was what Madame said, but Emilia’s words rang through her head. 

_ “Trust nothing she says. This is a place of manipulation and lies. Look out for yourself, and only yourself.” _

Perhaps she was ten, perhaps she wasn’t. She was, however, old enough to know that little girls shouldn’t be fighting each other until one can’t stand, or know how to put together and take apart a gun in the blink of an eye, let alone shoot it.

But there was nothing she could do, was there? 

Many of the girls scorned Natasha. She was the rebel of the group, the skeptic and most outspoken. She had not yet been taken completely by the lies, even after four years, didn’t see herself as a soldier and nothing else yet. She still knew she was still just a girl, deep down, and that fire hadn’t yet been extinguished by the brutality of the Red Room. 

Maybe that was why she kept losing these fights. The other girls threw themselves in completely, acting as if it were actually life or death. Natasha tended to dance around things, still hesitant in her punches. 

_ “Harder, Romanova!” _

Emilia’s fist met Natasha’s face. 

—

Evelinia’s hands ghosted over Natasha’s black eye, concern written all over her face. It worried Natasha, how Evelinia wore her emotions on her sleeve. Natasha might’ve been brash and impulsive, but Evelinia was empathetic, and still showed it. Not that Natasha wasn’t, but she would be eaten alive for showing that kind of vulnerability. And it also wasn’t to say that Evelinia wasn’t dangerous. She was, highly. Perhaps even more than Natasha. 

But she and Natasha were the two shunned from the group, the ones written off in the hopes it would crush them. 

Instead, they found solace in each other. Evelinia was a year older than Natasha, but Natasha found herself overcome with a strong urge to protect Evelinia, to preserve the kindness living inside her heart. It did not belong in a place as brutal as the Red Room. 

“I wish they wouldn’t make us fight each other,” Evelinia said. 

Natasha sniffed.

“I think that we’re the only ones who think that, Eve.” 

Evelinia didn’t respond, but instead pulled a napkin out of her sweatpant pocket, unwrapping it to reveal two slightly smashed lemon bars.

Natasha grinned. 

“I made them today for tea and snuck some out for us.” 

Natasha fell forward, wrapping her arms around Evelinia. 

“You’re the absolute best, Eve.”

Evelinia blushed, resting her head on top of Natasha’s. They hugged briefly, before Natasha pulled away, settling back against the wall. They sat shoulder to shoulder, savoring the sweet taste of the bars. Sneaking the food out when they weren’t supposed to always made eating it just that much sweeter. 

***

The sick twist of a neck snapping filled the silence of the courtyard. There was a sort of stuttered gasp, and then the thud of a body hitting the ground. 

Natasha swallowed, averting her eyes. 

She had grown, in the year between turning ten and then eleven. She was beginning to learn, finally grasping that there was no room to be a child here. If you didn’t treat everything, from breakfast to fights, like a life or death situation, you were as good as dead. 

Many of the girls in Natasha’s group were hitting their early teens, which, in the eyes of the Academy, meant they were ready for the next level of training.

And that, apparently, meant killing. Killing strangers, killing each other, it didn’t make a difference to their instructors. If you hesitated, or, God forbid, disobey, you were taken away and didn’t return. It wasn’t that hard for the other girls to quickly catch on to that. 

Long gone were nights of whispered stories exchanged between little girls who were not quite sure where they were, but still recognized a part of themselves as human. 

Human vulnerability got you killed, plain and simple. 

Natasha was next. She glanced across the courtyard, briefly meeting Emilia’s stony grey eyes. 

_ This is life or death.  _

Natasha took in a breath. Squared up. A whistle was blown. Natasha pounced.

She dodged punches and kicks, dancing around Emilia, carefully planning her next move to retaliate against Emilia’s. Natasha inched closer to Emilia, who took the bait, striking out with her foot. Natasha grabbed it, fast as lightning, yanking Emilia’s leg and throwing her off balance. Emilia fell to the ground, letting out a grunt, and Natasha jumped on top of her, wrestling Emilia’s arms behind her back and pinning her down with her knees. Emilia thrashed, attempting to throw the smaller girl off her back, but Natasha held strong. She glanced up. Madame B nodded at her. Natasha didn’t hesitate. 

—

“Natalia!” 

She ignored Evelinia, continuing to run through the halls to the nearest bathroom, choking down her panic. She stumbled into the door, her shaking body betraying her attempt to remain composed. 

She could hear Evelinia’s boots thudding down the hall behind her, and she cursed her out in her head. Damn Evelinia and her need to care for Natasha. It was going to get her hurt someday. 

She practically fell into a stall, trembling fingers fumbling with the lock. 

“ _ Natalia _ !”

There was pounding on the door. 

“I’m  _ fine _ ,” she spat out. 

She most definitely was not, if her blurred vision and the tightening band around her chest were anything to go off of, but Natasha would rather die than be caught admitting that.

“I know you’re not, Nat. Please let me in.”

Natasha pulled her knees into her chest, bowing her head and trying to get her breathing under control. The sound of Emelia’s neck, of her gasp, of the  _ thud _ , it all replayed over and over in her head. She had  _ killed  _ someone. With her own two hands. Someone who used to look out for her, cared for her, loved her like a sister. 

Natasha fell off the seat just in time to throw up bile into the toilet. She could hear Evelinia in the background, pleading with Natasha to let her in, but the snap, gasp, and thud of Emelia’s final moments were ingrained into Natasha’s head. 

The door busted open, Evelinia falling to her knees to pull Natasha’s hair out of her face, placing a cool hand on her neck. 

“Nat,” she whispered, her voice sad. 

“Eve,” Natasha croaked, slumping back. “I killed her. Fuck — I — she’s  _ dead _ .”

Evelinia gripped Natasha’s shoulders, turning to face her. Natasha’s desperate eyes searched Evelinia’s steely face, seeking the consolation she knew she didn’t deserve. 

“Nat,” Evelinia started, voice taking on an edge Natasha rarely heard. “If you hadn’t killed her,  _ you _ would be the one lying dead in the courtyard.” 

Natasha choked back a sob, falling forward into Evelinia’s arms. 

“I couldn’t bear to lose you,” Evelinia murmured, wrapping her arms around Natasha. “We do what we need to do to survive. Learn to hide the guilt away, Natalia, or it will destroy you. And...and I just...promise me you won’t let it tear you apart, Nat.  _ Please _ .”

“I promise,” Natasha whispered. 

It was a momentous promise, but Natasha knew she had to keep it. She  _ couldn’t  _ let the guilt and terror consume her, drive her mad with self-hatred. For Evelinia, maybe, just maybe, she could lock the screams and blood and gasps into the darkest corner of her mind, sent away to never be thought of. 

***

The mirrors of the Academy bathrooms were scratched and dirty, which Natasha found to be quite ironic, being that they reflected the pristine environment of everything else. She gripped the edge of the sink, faded red stains littering the pure white ceramic. 

Things were becoming more confusing. It was like there were pieces missing from her memory, replaced with someone else’s. There was the faint memory of a little girl’s laughter, of small and nimble fingers braiding her hair, of whispers in the dead of night. But she couldn’t tell if they were hers. It was like someone had shaken her brain around and scrambled everything up. 

Hundreds of thoughts raced around her brain, the whirlwind of memories and whispers storming too quickly for her to grasp, unable to tell what was real and what was a figment of her imagination. But, above all else, there was a soft voice, a stark contrast against the tumbling and churning screams of everything else in her head. 

_ You’re losing yourself, Natalia. _

Bile rose in Natasha’s throat. She gripped the sink harder. 

Everything was so fuzzy. She didn’t know who she was, didn’t like the voice in her head telling her she was wrong. That Madame was wrong. Madame B didn’t lie to them. 

_ This isn’t who you are. _

Natasha turned and emptied the contents of her stomach into the toilet.

***

Over and over, Natasha fell. She could feel the stares of the other girls, watching, analyzing, tucking information away in their brains. Natasha truly was the best dancer there, sharp and poised, holding a sort of deadly grace despite being only thirteen. But being the best came with its downfalls, as everything does. 

The better you were, the more you were hated, the more the other girls looked out to get to you. The harder Madame worked you, using you as an example, singling you out and singing pernicious praise. 

Natasha hit the ground, ankle crumpling beneath her and throwing her balance off. She saw Evelinia wince out of the corner of her eye.

“Again!”

Natasha heaved herself to her feet. Struck the opening pose. And began again. 

She went through each move with precision, graceful elegance and deadly sharpness seamlessly flowing together. Natasha leaped. 

She landed, finally, and struck the ending pose, willing herself not to fall with everything she had. 

“Again.”

Natasha grit her teeth. And began again.

Six more times, until she could land the leap perfectly, balanced dangerously on pointed, bleeding toes, pain hidden behind a carefully crafted mask of stony indifference. 

“Very good, Natalia. You see, girls, we expect perfection. Nothing less. Don’t you want to be perfect? To serve our country well?”

“Yes, Madame,” they murmured. 

Madame B smiled, deadly and sharp. 

“Good. Now up, all of you, and begin the routine. Natalia, you may leave to train.”

Natasha nodded, bowing her head and leaving the room. The stares of the other girls burned the back of her head, a silent promise of hatred. 

Natasha straightened. Let the guard escort her to the training facility. 

She threw herself into the day’s training regime, letting all thoughts leave her mind as she ran, jumped, and shot her way through the course. 

She was a soldier. And she had to be the best.

—

Natasha hissed quietly as Evelinia poured antiseptic over her arm, waving off the apology Evelinia whispered. 

“How’d you get this, Nat?” 

“Lost focus on the training course,” Natasha said, falling backwards on her bed as Evelinia finished taping the gauze pad to her arm. “Fell and cut myself open on a knife.” 

Evelinia tilted her head, unimpressed. 

“I somehow don’t believe that,” she said, moving so she was laid back next to Natasha, the two of them pressed together to fit on Natasha’s bed. 

“It’s true!” 

Evelinia huffed, but didn’t press. 

“How badly are your feet bleeding?” she finally asked. 

Natasha wriggled her toes, staring at her socks. “As much as you’d expect, I suppose.”

Evelinia hummed. “I’m sorry about that, Nat. She pushed you too hard.”

Natasha sighed. 

“It’s not like I couldn’t do it, Eve.”

Evelinia shifted, propping herself up on her elbow and twisting to face Natasha. 

“There’s a difference between ‘I can do this thing’ and ‘Should I do this thing’, Natalia. Just because we can doesn’t mean she should make us.”

Natasha rolled her eyes, tilting her head to look at Evelinia. 

“And what about you, hmm? I don’t see you ever worrying about yourself.”

Evelinia sighed, falling back onto the bed. “Yeah, but I’m older than you.”

“By a few  _ months _ , Eve. We’re in the same group. She expects the same things from us.” Natasha bumped her knee into Evelinia’s. “How are you? Seriously.”

Evelinia was quiet for a while. 

“I’m tired.” The admission was whispered, as if saying it quietly wouldn’t make it true. “I’m tired of fighting.”

Natasha didn’t respond. What could she say to that? There was nothing they could do, at least, nothing that would lead to anything other than punishment or even death. 

She laced her fingers with Evelinia’s. 

They stayed there, side by side, until the bell for dinner broke the silence. 

***

“You’re fourteen now, Natalia.”

Natasha nodded curtly.

“Four years until your graduation, hm? Perhaps you should begin on some one on one sessions with Soldat, no? Get some extra practice in.”

“That sounds wonderful, Madame.”

“Good.” Madame B smiled, brushing a stray hair out of Natasha’s face. “You’ve grown so much, Natalia. I remember when you were just a small child, so weak and frail. And now look at you. Well on your way to being able to serve our country in the best way possible.”

“It is an honor to do so, Madame.”

“It is, Natalia, it is.”

Natasha was quiet. 

“You are dismissed.”

She hurried out of the office, looking behind her shoulder as she hurried through the halls of the Academy. She gasped as she ran into something, saved from stumbling backwards by someone gripping her arms. 

Natasha grinned. 

“ _ Evelinia.” _

Their arms wrapped around each other, Natasha burying her face in Evelinia’s neck, breathing in her familiar scent. 

“What’d she say? Is everything okay?”

“Yes. Yeah. I’m starting one on one with Soldat, is all.” 

Natasha could feel the tension leave Evelina’s body. 

“Oh, thank God.”

They were silent, hugging in the hallway, but the sound of boots soon penetrated the silence, and they jerked backwards from each other, hurrying to start walking the other way. They rushed down the hall, falling into the first bathroom, suppressing laughter. 

Once the boots had passed, they let themselves laugh, sinking down next to each other against the wall. 

“So one on one with Soldat?”

Natasha hummed. 

“He makes me sad,” Evelinia said. “He’s so quiet and reserved.”

Natasha lightly swatted at Evelinia. 

“ _ You’re  _ quiet and reserved, silly.”

“Well,  _ yeah _ , but he’s just....sad.”

They were quiet. 

“Do you wanna break into the kitchen?” Natasha asked. 

Evelinia grinned. 

***

There was a sort of confused pain that lingered behind Soldat’s eyes. Like he was missing something quite dear to his heart, but he didn’t know what it was. He was quiet, reserved and seclusive, never talking other than to give the girls muttered pointers. 

Natasha liked to analyze him. He was a large man, but he was constantly hunched in on himself, like the weight of the world was on his shoulders. Perhaps he felt the burden of the lives he had taken too heavily. 

After ten years in the Academy, Natasha had learned to compartmentalize. She knew how to brush off the deaths, to lock gasps and wide eyes and splatters of blood into the corner of her mind, never to come out. Perhaps Soldat had not learned the same way she had. 

“Can I braid your hair?”

Soldat jerked, warily staring at Natasha from across the ring. He shrugged, rolling his shoulders out slightly. The metal plates of his arm shifted, and Natasha watched, fascinated. She’d been doing one on one lessons with him for a year, and working around him for around two, but the metal arm still intrigued her. 

“Shouldn’t you be training?”

“Shouldn’t you be training me?” she shot back. 

The corner of Soldat’s mouth twitched slightly. 

“Fine. But if anyone comes in, you move to a chokehold position, да?”

“да,” Natasha said, scrambling over and folding herself onto the chair behind him. She was gentle and precise with her movements, carefully braiding the strands together. 

“Did anyone ever braid your hair, Natalia?”

Natasha shrugged. 

“Maybe. There’s...a faint memory. Just the ghost of someone’s fingers in my hair.” She paused, lowering her voice. “Does your brain feel...scrambled? Like eggs?”

Soldat tensed beneath her. 

Natasha moved on. 

“Has anyone ever braided your hair?”

Soldat’s shoulders slumped. 

“I...don’t know. Maybe. I think so.”

Natasha hummed, finishing off the braid. 

“There. Beautiful.” 

Soldat’s hand, the flesh one, ghosted by the braid. 

A bell rang, sharp and loud, throughout the Academy. Natasha didn’t move.

“Go to dinner, Natalia.”

“And see all of them? No thanks.” 

“Natalia.”

“ _ Soldat _ .”

Natasha tilted her head, analyzing him.

“What’s your real name?”

“Go to dinner. Our practice is over.”

“But what is it?”

“Natalia,” Soldat warned, teeth gritted. 

Natasha cocked an eyebrow, remaining stubborn.

Soldat stared her down. 

She could see the emotions swirling behind his mask of indifference. It was something she was uncannily good at, much to the chagrin of the other girls in the Academy with her. 

“You don’t know it, do you.”

The ever so slight twitch of his eyebrow was all Natasha needed. 

“Okay. So — choose a name.”

“Go to dinner, Natalia.” He sounded tired. Worn out, lonely and unsure of his place in the world. 

Natasha could’ve been sure she felt the same.

Soldat sighed, long and weary. 

“The only name...I…” He swallowed, looking highly uncomfortable. Natasha wondered when the last time he’d  _ talked  _ to anyone had been. “Steve,” he finally murmured. “It’s...not my name. Someone’s name. Just...not mine. But the only one I remember.”

“It’s okay,” Natasha said softly. Perhaps, if they weren’t two wayward souls buried in violence and bloodshed, they might’ve hugged, might’ve shared a moment of pure vulnerability. 

But they both knew that vulnerability was weakness, and weakness got you killed. 

So Natasha merely told him to let her know if he ever decided on a name and slipped out the door. 

***

Soldat left abruptly after the last of their group turned sixteen. One day Natasha was training with him, and the next he was simply gone. Madame didn’t say anything, so Natasha didn’t ask. 

There were very few of the girls left. A group of forty-five had, over years of fights and examinations, dwindled down to a mere twenty of the strongest and most resilient of them all. Only those who had not yet broken were still alive.

They had two more years until graduation. Two more years of fights and hidden emotions and brutal training. Two more years until they would go out and serve their country. 

Natasha glanced up from her book, scanning the library. It was one of her favorite places, with the dark oak shelves lined with books and stories. There was a tighter restriction on the Academy’s library than the rest of the Soviet Union, but Natasha was grateful for whatever she could get. 

Most of the other girls didn’t care for reading, only doing the requirements of their schooling, so Natasha was typically alone in the library. 

Her group was reaching the end of their learning anyway, so it was typically more empty than not. 

She glanced at the clock. Fifteen minutes until she had to go to ballet practice. 

A bell rang through the Academy. Over the years, Natasha had learned to be able to discern the barely perceptible differences in the bells for the groups of girls. That in itself was probably a test, being that they signaled when each group needed to leave. 

Her group wasn’t as strictly supervised as they used to be. There weren’t guards constantly walking them from place to place. They were given a schedule and expected to be places at certain times, but they had more freedom. Two years ago, Natasha would’ve been punished for being in the library without asking. But now she had a free period, and instead of training like the other girls, she stayed in the library. She was already good, she knew that for a fact, and preferred to spend her time learning, rather than training under the hateful glares of her peers. Except Evelinia. Evelinia, whose stormy gray eyes never hatefully turned to Natasha, but rather everyone else. Who cared for Natasha, so much, despite the attempts to pit the girls against each other. Who Natasha cared for in turn, with a love that ran so deep it scared her. It was the kind of feeling that they didn’t want them to have. To love, to care, to nurture,  _ genuinely  _ — that was forbidden. They could pretend, spin an intricately crafted web of lies to get the job done, fake affection. But to feel the real thing? That was a dangerous tightrope for them to walk. 

The sound of footsteps broke Natasha from her rambling thoughts. She looked up from her book to see Evelinia come around the bookshelf, a smile on her face. 

_ You only have two more years together.  _

Natasha offered a small smile, closing the book and setting it aside. Evelinia’s smile faltered, the crease of worry between her eyebrows making a momentary appearance. She sat down next to Natasha on the divan, bumping her knee into Natasha’s. 

“What’s wrong?” 

“Does something need to be wrong?”

“Come on, Nat, I know that face. What’s going on?”

Natasha was quiet, searching Evelinia’s eyes, the timer counting down on their time together painfully present. 

“Eve — I —” Natasha faltered, closing her eyes and taking in a deep breath. “I don’t want to lose you,” she whispered. 

“I’m right here, silly. I’m not going anywhere.”

“But you  _ are _ ,” Natasha pressed, taking Evelinia’s hands into hers. “You’re going to  _ leave _ , because you’re older than me, and they’ll make you graduate before me and then I’ll be all  _ alone _ , and—”

She was interrupted by Evelinia falling forward, her lips connecting with Natasha’s. Natasha froze for a moment, all thoughts stopping, before she realized  _ oh, she’s kissing me _ , and she sank into it. She could taste the tea still lingering on Evelinia’s lips, Evelinia’s impossibly soft lips that were on  _ hers,  _ and  _ oh,  _ it was all Natasha wanted. 

Evelinia pulled away, the two of them gasping slightly, foreheads touching. 

“Eve,” Natasha whispered. Evelinia sat up, leaving their hands interlaced. 

Her eyes searched Natasha’s looking for the sign that it was okay. 

Natasha brought their hands up, kissing Evelinia’s knuckles. Evelinia laughed breathily, head falling back. 

“You have no idea how long I’ve wanted to do that,” she whispered. 

Natasha felt herself flush, grinning stupidly. 

“I thought it was just me,” she murmured. Evelinia squeezed Natasha’s hands. 

Natasha met her eyes. 

_ I love you,  _ she thought.  _ I love you and it took me so long to realize that and I don’t want to lose you. _

Instead, she said “You have an eyelash on your cheek.”

Evelinia laughed, grinning as Natasha gently brushed it off, the pad of her thumb lingering longer than necessary under Evelinia’s eye. 

“We should go to dinner,” Natasha whispered. 

Neither of them moved, not necessarily inclined to get up and face the rest of their group. They were content to stay there, tucked away in the library, safe in the other’s presence. 

***

The last year before graduation was full of exams and fights and stolen kisses and late night library rendezvous. Natasha and Evelinia became excellent at falling into corners where the cameras couldn’t see them, smiling against the other’s lips. They would sit on that same divan, ankles hooked around each other’s, books in hand. Natasha loved every second they shared together, carefully storing it away in her brain. 

But still, the knowledge that they only had limited time was a constant in the back of her mind. Once they graduated, they had no idea what would happen next. And it hurt to think about, losing Evelinia. They had spent so many years together, and Natasha couldn’t part with her. 

But they weren’t there yet, so each day was a fresh opportunity to find ways to spend time together. 

Natasha sighed softly, closing her eyes. 

They were lying back on Natasha’s bed, shoulders and hips pressed together, and fingers interlaced. 

“Want to spar?” Evelinia asked. 

Natasha snorted. 

“Nope.”

“Aw, no fun. How about the training course?” 

“Eh.”

“Skating?”

Natasha paused. 

“Yeah, okay.”

Evelinia cheered softly, letting Natasha slip off the bed before she did. 

“I’ll meet you there in ten, yeah?”

“Yeah,” Natasha said, grinning as Evelinia pressed a quick kiss to her cheek before leaving her room. 

Natasha changed into leggings and a shirt, tying her hair back before grabbing her duffel with her skates and walking to the rink. Once Evelinia joined her, the two ran through a stretching warm-up before lacing their skates. 

Evelinia started up the music, a collection of orchestral pieces they had skated to over the years. 

The scratching of their blades and the ripping of edges accompanied the music as they warmed up, running through turns and spins and jumps individually before coming back to the center. They didn’t dare touch — not here, not out in the open, but they could stand there, listening to the music, imagining. 

Natasha liked to think about that — the two of them, together, like the videos Madam B had them watch. Edges and turns in tandem, flying over the ice, the wind in their hair. 

“Nat.”

“Hmm?” She opened her eyes, grinning at Evelinia. 

“Choreography?”

Evelinia picked the music. It was a soft violin piece, hopeful and sweet, and they leaned against the wall and listened to it, constructing a rough draft of a routine in their heads. 

And they worked on it, together, until, two hours later, they had a melting pot of both their ideas, something uniquely  _ theirs _ , freeing and exhilarating and their own fucking creation. 

Natasha grinned. She was happy, content to live in the moment of unbridled joy, just her and Evelinia and an empty rink, the music and their own routine. 

***

Hannah was the last of them to turn eighteen, two weeks after Natasha. Twenty fresh adults, trained to be the perfect assassins, deadly and graceful and so, so angry. 

They’d undergone a full week of tests and examinations, of killing and fighting and doctors poking and prodding and taking notes. 

Natasha hated every second of it all. 

She hated pulling the trigger on an innocent person, hated fighting the girls she grew up with, hated standing there while men in labcoats observed her like some sort of specimen. 

But at the end of the day, she could escape to the library, pressed next to Evelinia on the same divan where they’d shared their first kiss, pretending their days together weren’t numbered. There was the possibility they’d be sent to the same place next, but…

Natasha didn’t like to think about the  _ what if’s _ . 

She didn’t think anything could’ve prepared her for what happened. 

They had two days. One more day of examinations, and then...graduation. Freedom from the Red Room, only to be shoved back under someone else’s thumb, to become someone else’s puppet, another game piece to be controlled and smothered. 

Natasha woke up in a good mood. She ate breakfast with Evelinia, making black tea with honey and grabbing two lemon bars. 

The two of them stretched and warmed up in one of the gyms, preparing for whatever would come that day. 

At 10:00 sharp, the twenty girls reported to the courtyard. 

Natasha stood next to Evelinia, eyeing the silent men with clipboards standing to the side. 

“Welcome to your final examination, girls.”

Madame B smiled, the same sharp deadliness as always present. 

“I will give you five minutes to prepare yourselves.”

She turned with a flourish, moving to talk to the clipboard men. 

Natasha turned to Evelinia. There was a sinking feeling in her gut, like something terrible was about to happen. Evelinia must have felt the same way, because there was a crease of worry between her eyebrows. 

“Nat,” she said, voice urgent. “Nat, they’re going to make us kill each other.”

Natasha wanted to laugh. It seemed absurd, to keep the twenty of them, only to kill half of them off. But —

“It’s the final test, Natalia,” she whispered. “The — the true test. Nat,  _ please _ , please promise me you’ll…”

Natasha shook her head frantically, grasping Evelinia’s arms. 

“Eve,” she said, voice even despite the scream of panic bubbling in her throat, “they won’t make us fight each other. We’ll make it through. Together, like always. Right?” The last word bordered on desperate, like she was trying to convince herself. But as she looked around — most of the girls had paired off, talking in hushed voices with the other. Because most of them found someone, someone who wouldn’t hit them as hard, someone to help with the hard to reach wounds, someone they didn’t hate as much as the rest of them. She wondered briefly if any of them had found the same solace she found in Evelinia in one of the other girls. 

Natasha’s panicked eyes met Evelinia’s. She knew, knew that Madame B and the directors of the Red Room were cruel enough to make the pairs fight each other. The true test, of whether they truly would kill whoever they asked. 

“ _ Nat,  _ you have to promise me.”

“I — I can’t, Eve. You  _ know  _ I can’t do that.” Natasha wanted to scream, to cry, to break down in a fit of fury and anguish and pain. She had prepared herself to lose Evelinia, but not -- not like this. This was too much. 

Evelinia smiled sadly. 

“Nat. Dear, dear, Nat. You know how much I hate this. The fighting, the killing, all of it. Please, this one last thing. For me.” 

“Eve, you — you don’t even know if they’ll make us fight each other.”

“I think we all know,” Evelinia whispered. 

It all made sense, suddenly. They let them have more freedom, more choice, and it was all a fucking experiment. See who gets close with who, so they could turn around and make them kill each other in the end. It made Natasha sick. 

“No.” Natasha shook her head. “I won’t. I  _ can’t.  _ Eve, that’s…”

Madame B turned back around. 

“You have to do it, Nat.”

“I love you,” Natasha whispered. “Please, Eve, I can’t.”

They were both about to cry. 

“If you love me, you need to let me go.”

Natasha made one last desperate sweep of Evelinia’s face. 

“I love you, Nat,” she whispered. 

That would be the last thing she ever did say. 

They all straightened, silent and still, as Madame B returned. 

“The fights will now commence. Romanova, Volkova.”

Natasha’s entire world came crashing down. Pure panic ran through her body as she stepped forward, Evelinia at her side. 

Evelinia, who  _ loved  _ her. Who snuck her food, who cared for her, who patched up her wounds, who would sit in the silence of the library with her. Who was so sweet, so kind, so beautiful, the opposite of what they were meant to be. Who Natasha had to kill.

Natasha thought a lot of things during the time between their names being called and Evelinia’s first strike. 

First, panic. They had to fight each other. Evelinia needed her to -- She couldn’t even finish the thought. 

Second, anger. Hatred towards Madame B, towards the other girls, towards the Red Room, towards her  _ parents _ , for giving her up. Towards Evelinia, for making her do something that was her worst nightmare come to life. For getting a way out, for knowing she wouldn’t make it out of this, and wouldn’t have to worry about what came next. For hurting Natasha, for falling in love with her only to have it ripped out from under her in the most brutal and painful way. 

Third, numbness. The feeling of utter hopelessness, of  _ nothing _ , set in right before Evelinia striked. She stayed that way as the two danced around each other, as their last touches with each other only inflicted pain. She stayed numb as she took Evelinia down, stayed numb as she followed Madame B’s nod. 

Everything was quiet. There was no pain, no anger, no sadness. Just emptiness, vast and blank, all-encompassing and  _ terrible _ . She wanted to scream, cry, hold Evelinia’s broken body to her chest and  _ sob _ , because she  _ loved her.  _

She loved her, and she was dead. She loved her, and she had killed her. 

Natasha stayed numb. Sounds came from far away, muffled and faint. She stood to the side as the other girls fought, as the bodies grew from one to two to five to ten. Stayed numb as the other nine killers, fighters, survivors, girls,  _ people _ , joined her, all with equally blank faces. 

She didn’t know what they did with the bodies. Didn’t even know what happened for the rest of the day. She slept a dreamless sleep, reported to Madame B’s office when instructed to. 

But then -- they strapped her to a table, brought her into a room, where more men in suits watched,  _ laughing _ , drinking and observing the spectacle like it was some sort of entertainment. Like the loss of a part of her was something funny. Like watching her struggle and plead and eventually pass out, touched and prodded against her consent, was  _ okay _ . 

When she woke up, she was numb again. 

She took mechanical steps down the hall, face blank and mind back to the emptiness of the void. 

The other nine girls were quietly seated in a room, some of them still with red marks around their wrists, with eyes slightly puffy from tears. They didn’t dare comfort one another, just sitting in silence until Madame B came to collect them. 

She made a speech, but Natasha didn’t pay attention. The words washed over her like waves, indecipherable and garbled. 

They graduated. 

No longer were they Red Room recruits, being trained to become efficient killers. They were now assassins, ready to be handed off and put back under control. 

They were all put in separate cars, sat between two guards. 

Natasha was silent. They put her in a jet, shoved a new uniform at her, and handed her a card. 

_ Talya Rominov _ , it read. Close to her name, but -- not the same. 

A new person to become. Someone different — a killer, nothing more, nothing less. Someone with a past to create, a persona to craft. 

Natasha willingly accepted. 

Natalia Romanova was gone. Killed with the hope that lived inside Evelinia Volkova. 

They touched down somewhere, where exactly, Natasha didn’t care. The guards marched her out, where a woman was waiting. She smiled, the same kind of smile Madame B used to give. 

She extended a hand. 

“Welcome to the Black Widow Program, Talya.”

**Author's Note:**

> please!!! let me know what u thought!!! from love to screaming to full criticism bitch i dont care let me fucking know!!! i need to!!!! please!!!  
> my [tumblr](https://ginger--snapped.tumblr.com/)


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